


A History of Orsimer Relations

by Uss_Lfm



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uss_Lfm/pseuds/Uss_Lfm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about two residents of Skyrim. One is an instructor of destruction magic at the College of Winterhold, the other is a miner by day and a historian by night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Firewood

"And after all of that, he dies?"

An orsimer, roughly Dulpak's height but more broadly shouldered and heavily muscled, sat across from him at a small table, in a house about an hour northeast of Markarth. The fireplace lit a rim of orange light behind his head, shaved close but darkened with a shadow that indicated he could grow hair if he wanted. His jaw was sharp, masculinely square and lined with a short beard that covered the hollows of his cheeks, chin, and upper lip.

"Yes. We survived the attack just in time for him to catch ill a month later," the orsimer nodded into his drink, his deep, blunt voice direct but not dismissive.  
_Nagrul gro-Mogash._ It was almost fun to say. The last time he was freely given the name of one of his kind, he was still a student.  


"Here's to your health, then," Dulpak smiled as he often did, a kind of inward smile that was both genuinely warm and eerily disarming for a member of his race.  
When he, immensely late in his plans, had stumbled upon a small house along the road to Markarth, it was a pleasant surprise to see an orc hauling firewood late into the evening- Still more pleasant to be invited to stay the night rather than stumble through the dark on his way to an inn. 

"Were you born in Skyrim?" Dulpak made no effort to hide his hunger for conversation, his voice amiable.  
"Yes. In a stronghold to the east." Nagrul took a pause as if mulling over the taste of his ale, but Dulpak felt it was taken to choose his next words carefully.

"I suspect you were not."

Laughter rolled gently in Dukpak's chest, silent but rumbling.  
"If we were speaking our own language, my accent would make it clearer," he began, glancing down momentarily before continuing in the rough, distinct language of the orsimer, "You must know about High Rock. I'm from Orsinium."

The next few minutes- or so he assumed, for they felt much longer than that- were painfully awkward. Nagrul appeared to be processing the full extent of his heritage, which Dulpak guessed was a melange of outdated facts and myths stronghold orsimer told each other. In the thick silence he felt almost humorously uncomfortable, looking diligently toward his right hand on the table to keep from laughing. He was caught up in spinning the ring around his index finger with his thumb when Nagrul finally spoke. 

"Feel free to use the bed in this room...The rest of the ale is yours as well, if you feel up to drinking it," Nagrul offered in his usual firm, even tone- this time in orsimer language- as he abandoned the large bottle and rose to his feet, but his eyes didn't seem to reflect the painful awkwardness Dulpak had felt.  
"Thank you," he replied with a palpable air of gratefulness and another disarming smile. Perhaps he wasn't liked enough to converse with, but at least Nagrul thought him sufficiently trustworthy. It was more than he felt he deserved.

With a short nod Nagrul took his leave and disappeared into the basement of the small house.

\--------------------------------

 

Hunched over a makeshift desk in the basement, Nagrul was lost in thought. His guest was entirely weaponless, aside from a small skinning knife, and he wore a crisp white shirt and a pair of clean, taupe breeches tucked into thick leather boots. Yet he claimed to be traveling from Winterhold on business. From what he had heard, the college was one of the only buildings left standing in Winterhold- Maybe Dulpak was a student there. Almost at the end of his third decade, he could tell that Dulpak was no older than 30.

But he was muscular- less so than Nagrul, but certainly more than most civilians he encountered. And even stranger, he was an orc.

The longer he considered the possibility, the more plausible it became. Many orsimer were muscular without much effort, and he had the complexion of a ranged fighter, unmarred by any glaring scars. And perhaps they didn't discourage that sort of study in Orsinium. Nagrul made a silent pact to ask him personally if they ever saw one another after tomorrow morning.

Dulpak's mannerisms were another matter entirely.  
He smiled so frequently that Nagrul found it incessant, and his body language was near-constantly relaxed. Even during their long pause in conversation, he could see stifled amusement in the orc's yellow eyes...

At the memory of that silence, Nagrul felt a pang of guilt. Though he was normally reserved, Dulpak seemed to draw conversation from him with a weird sort of intimacy. And yet, he found himself unable to question the man about his upbringing when the opportunity arose.

Nagrul straightened his back and shuffled through a stack of parchments that had been pushed to the corner of the desk. After passing through a few dozen pages headed 'Changes in Daedra Worship' he settled on a relatively bare set- 'Modern Cultures of the Orsimer of High Rock'. After a slow, longing glance at the contents, he tucked it back into the stack. If he attempted an interview he would surely be asked to see the work, and though Nagrul had spent much of his adult life privately transcribing Orsimer history, he was deeply ashamed of it. He was a miner- a respectable enough position, he supposed- but so much time had been wasted writing rather than doing something useful, something that would actually come to fruition. 

The soft thud of footsteps drew his attention upward. By morning Dulpak would be gone, headed toward... _Where was he headed?_ Had the orc even offered a full name? The realization that his guest had managed to hold a lengthy conversation without revealing much personal information made him uneasy.  
His thoughts raced until the trail of footsteps concluded with the unmistakable creak of the upstairs bed. Nagrul made a conscious effort to push aside his worry, though his mind tingled with paranoia. He returned the parchment to its usual spot- sandwiched between two heavy volumes of _Brief History of the Empire_ \- and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.  
> I have a definite direction for this story and will be updating it frequently. It might get a little weird at times. The title or chapter names might change as I feel it out. I dunno.
> 
> This is a very brief opening chapter for what I hope will be a much longer ride.


	2. Similarities

Nagrul woke, as he always did, shortly after the sun rose. He had fallen asleep fully clothed, and the soft sounds rolling down from the ceiling reminded him why. It felt like it had been ages since another living thing shared the house. He hoisted a heavy-looking satchel over his shoulder and groggily ascended the stairs, just in time to catch a brief flash of Dulpak's dark olive skin as it was swallowed by his shirt. The sight woke him considerably. 

"Morning," his guest greeted him pleasantly, eyes busied with his sleeves as he rolled them up to his elbows. His hair- shaved on all sides except for the crown and usually gathered into a short ponytail- was loose, brushed carelessly to one side until he found the time to secure it.  
Nagrul nodded back in recognition of the greeting, feeling able to look at him directly now that he was settled.  
"Are you headed far?" 

"Not far, no. But I have a lot to do once I'm there." Dulpak got on his feet and picked up his pack before he met Nagrul's gaze. His yellow eyes were alert and engaged, just as they had been the night before. "I could ask the same of you."

The larger orc's brow furrowed and he shot a look at his satchel, as if it had suddenly appeared on his shoulder. His voice was rougher than usual when he answered.  
"I was just," he paused to evaluate the weight of his words before saying them, "going to Markarth for the day to get some food. I'm running low."

"I guess we're headed to the same place. We can make the trip together," Dulpak called back in his deep, almost melodic voice, out the door before Nagrul could say otherwise. 

They spent the first ten minutes of the walk in silence- Nagrul was sure they were observing each other privately. The morning was clear and cloudless but slightly too cold, and he cursed himself for not wearing something thicker than his beaten old work shirt.  
If his companion was chilled he didn't show any sign of it, walking at an easy pace with no real concern for unpleasant weather or the silence between them. Over the next few minutes he continued to risk sidelong glaces, until the easy demeanor infected him and he was comfortable enough to speak.

"Last night I didn't learn your name. I don't think I learned much at all about you, actually," Nagrul said with such ease that he amazed himself, and willpower kept his eyes on the orc's face. A pact had been made and he intended to keep his word.

"Oh, right!" Dulpak's voice rang back from the ground, where he crouched over his pack, shifting hastily through the contents. He eventually produced a piece of folded up parchment and handed it over with a grin.  
Once opened, Nagrul found himself trying to navigate through a clash of clean penmanship and terrible cursive scrawl. It appeared to be a correspondence of sorts, in which Dulpak - _gro-Ghazal_ he made out with difficulty- was given orders to study some kind of magic or another under a master in Markarth and return with a tome specified within. Just as he thought, his companion was in his late twenties, and had at least some knowledge of magic.  
He began to wander leisurely through the text. _His handwriting is...atrocious...Even for a student..._

Nagrul's attention broke from the page as Dulpak chimed in, "I'm an instructor at the college. Destruction mag-"  
"You're young." He interrupted bluntly and returned the parchment. Dulpak's smile became sly as he stuffed the orders into his pack.  
"There's no age requirement."

Their walk to Markarth started up again, and after another moment's pause he added, "But you're right, I've only been teaching for a short time. And only with novice and apprentice students. I'm able to operate master destruction spells, but there's an experience requirement before you can instruct at higher levels, and I'm not quite sure what it is, but..."

The trip continued like that, miraculously free of danger as Dulpak spoke at length about the instruction of destruction magic until the city's entrance came into view. To his surprise, Nagrul found the time passed quickly, and even though he had never met a more talkative orsimer _in his life_ , he enjoyed the company immensely. 

"I never repaid you for letting me stay the night. Let me buy you a drink before you leave Markarth this afternoon," Dulpak kept his voice low as they entered, the suspicious gaze of the city guards heavy on their backs. Nagrul felt his face flush with heat but willed it away immediately. He looked as casually as he could toward the market, though he already knew his answer. The sudden contact with another person, particularly another orsimer, was overwhelming. He realized all at once how alone he had become. 

He agreed in a gruff, tightly controlled tone.  
"Then I'll see you in...five hours?" Dulpak replied coolly, and by the time Nagrul was willing to break his line of sight with the market, he was gone.

\--------------------------------

It was difficult to navigate, but the city had grown pleasantly warm after the frigid morning and his mind hummed lazily with the promise of meeting Nagrul again. The search for his trainer ran just short of four hours, much of which was spent walking streets that wound through waterfalls and great sets of stairs. He had repeated her description so many times in that short span that he could never forget it- _Elanna, an older Breton woman with long brown hair, she's a mage, do you know where I can find her?_  
After countless conflicting sets of directions, he ended up at a modest house toward the back of the city, but when he knocked on the door a younger woman than Elanna answered it. She meekly told him that the trainer, her mother, would be back no sooner than three days. He could see the discomfort she felt in the doorway, dwarfed by his tusked shadow, and pressed no further. She was frightened but didn't seem to lie, it was merely bad timing on his part.

And so he found himself on the street leading to the town's only inn, disappointment ebbing as his anticipation of their meeting rushed to the forefront.  
When he entered the inn it was moderately busy, but his eyes settled on Nagrul quickly, tucked into a small table in the corner of the dimly lit room. As they shifted from him to the female orsimer sitting across from him, however, he was stunned. She had leaned in, talking to Nagrul closely. The struggle he felt was well hidden to most, but unmistakable to Dulpak. His back was straightened uncomfortably and his pupils focused on anything but hers- he kept his drink close to his mouth and spoke back sparingly. 

It was a sensation Dulpak had experienced so many times before- the pressing awkwardness of a woman's advances when you weren't attracted to women at all.

He ordered two glasses of spiced cider and seated himself along a wall, directly within Nagrul's line of sight. The larger orc noticed him and muttered something hastily to her before he crossed the room.  
"It looks like you've already found a drinking partner. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, honestly," Dulpak greeted him in orcish, intending to keep their conversation at least halfway private. He snuck a glance at the woman from across the room. She seemed put out but, thankfully, not furious.

Nagrul's eyes narrowed at the jab but his voice was full of barely masked relief.  
"Did you meet with whoever it was you were looking for?" His accent in their own tongue was slower and more consonant heavy. Dulpak liked the cadence of it.  
"No! And it looks like I won't for another three days at least. I'll have to stay at the inn longer than I planned..." He trailed off with a frown and tossed back a good portion of his drink.  
"You're lucky to have the privacy of your own home."

Nagrul frowned at this too, but his was one of legitimate concern rather than light-hearted griping.  
"I wish it were so." He took a moment as if mulling over his drink, just as he had done the night before. "The man I mentioned yesterday owned it. Once his family received word of his death, the property passed on to his niece and she sent word to me. I am only its caretaker until she arrives."  
Dulpak watched his eyes drift off as her letter began to burn a hole through his conscience.  
"They plan to arrive here in two month's time, sooner if the roads are good. If I'm honest, I have no plans for myself afterward. There are no arrangements with relatives to fall back on. Perhaps you are more lucky than I."

Nagrul looked at him directly now, more forward than he had ever been. Something about it emboldened Dulpak and he stared back, though his expression was full of warmth.  
"We're more similar than you realize," He said in a lower tone than usual, and met the man's eyes with a weighted gaze that was charged with double meaning.  
For awhile, Nagrul only looked back. He seemed to have grasped at the intent, but was cautious in acting on it. 

"I'll get you another drink," Dulpak got to his feet quickly with a small, satisfied smile, their empty glasses in hand. As he tried to speak with the innkeeper, however, his order was cut off by a very tall and very drunken nord.  
Dulpak was unable to hide his disgust- He glared pointedly at the man, who seemed to relish his anger as he leaned in uncomfortably close. 

"Listen, _orc_ ," the nord slurred loudly, "if you have a problem with me you can either fight me like a man or fuck off to whatever stronghold you and your friend came in from."

At the very back of his mind Dulpak knew it was a pointless argument. The man was drunk and looking for a fight, and he probably figured an orc would be hot-tempered enough to engage in one. But he couldn't find the willpower to drop his glare, and as the man closed in on him he shoved him back at the chest. 

The next few seconds happened quickly.  
An impact of flesh and bone exploded over his right eye and he felt his back hit the floor. Footsteps shuffled quickly and there was a roar of male voices, followed by the sound of a heavy body slammed back into the bar and knocking over a chair on its limp descent to the ground. His vision was black in his right eye and blurred in his left- he saw all eyes on Nagrul, who appeared frozen and breathing heavily, as if panicked. A hot sensation rolled down his face and he realized the skin on his cheekbone must have torn open. As Nagrul's hands slipped behind his back, he passed out. 

When Dulpak awoke late into the evening of a new day, he was alone in a bed at the inn. Though he felt as if he had been asleep for hours, the throbbing over his eye willed him to sleep again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to keep this pace up for the next few weeks. We'll see!  
> Thanks for following along.


	3. A line is drawn in the clearing

"I don't think we'll need to work on rune enlargement any longer, so I'd like to spend most of today working on the version of wall of flames I brought up last week. Assuming you've read my notes on the tome?" Elanna asked, only half joking. She was several heads shorter than him and had a soft, aging face. But when she spoke, Dulpak listened.  
"Of course I have."

At the start, she was sceptical, as if there had been some kind of mix up at the college. The reasoning went unspoken- It was the same reason that made her daughter so timid around him. He deeply resented them both for it.  
But they had to work together. It was a matter of business, and his personal feelings had no place between them.  
So Dulpak worked. He ignored the face she made ( _poorly masked disbelief_ ) every time he cast anything above an adept level, and he spent his off hours studying her tomes fastidiously. It was the same routine he was stuck doing as a student, running himself ragged to exceed what was expected.  
And, frustrations aside, he felt a familiar satisfaction when it finally paid off. Looking at him now as they walked toward a clearing just outside the city walls with the rising sun at their backs, Elanna was stern yet encouraging. Almost motherly.

But it was not her feelings that concerned him the most.  
It had been two weeks since he last saw Nagrul, and in that time he had throw himself into his training. It was all he could do to keep his mind off the incident at the inn.

He only had a patchy recollection and the innkeeper's account of the proceedings, but he knew enough to be _completely disgusted_ with himself. He tried to picture it through Nagrul's eyes as the innkeeper recalled it- The nord dropped him to the ground in a single hit, his head made contact quite hard, and he passed out. Nagrul had to fight _for him_ , and he imagined the orc was only too eager to drop him off in a room and leave.  
It was what he deserved. The code of honor in Orsinium was very different than those of strongholds, but it didn't leave residents immune from the shame of being unable to defend themselves.

By the time they reached the clearing, the sun was up. Waking this early hadn't really been a problem for him since the start of his training- Dulpak found that he could only sleep for a few hours a night after the incident.

"I won't be going easy on you today. This is a modification of an expert level spell and I expect your _full_ attention," Elanna announced with a warning glance, smiling only once he dropped his pack at the foot of a tree and nodded.  
"Good. First try producing the right flame intensity," She instructed cheerily.

His jaw set with determination, but the thoughts that kept him awake late into the morning swarmed uneasily in his gut.  
He cupped his right hand, and the unnatural sensation of fire that scorched everything but his own skin filled it. Another orange globe lit the bowl of his left hand. When he combined the two, it produced a stream of flame so intense it had a sound, unfurling like a tongue many feet ahead. Producing fire was simple and drained relatively little magicka, so he took his time tempering the heat.  
In his concentration, he instructed himself like he would a student.  
_What's the most basic property of the spell? When you produce fire, you're consuming something else. Keep your mind on that. Remember how angry you were when you realized Nagrul would never speak to you again?_

"Control yourself!" Elanna barked over the roar of heat, and it ceased immediately. "You're wasting magicka."

"Right," Dulpak muttered. He was breathing heavily, and a thin layer of sweat permeated his robes.  
His trainer's brow furrowed out of a feeling he knew was concern for him, but she didn't press the matter.  
"Go again."

\-------------------------

Several hours past sunrise, it was quiet on the road to Markarth. Nagrul traveled along at relative ease. The only danger he met was a young frostbite spider lurking a few feet from his house. His business within the walls would be short- Sell the better pieces of ore and any gems he happened to find to the old dunmer that bought from him, and track down more paper and ink.  
He had written nightly since he saw Dulpak last.

It wasn't until he got close to the gates that Nagrul noticed a growing pressure in his bladder. He ducked off the road quickly, grumbling to himself while he settled behind the cover of trees to pee.  
A woman's authoritative shout echoed from deeper in the woods, and he scrambled to right himself. His head snapped toward the direction of the sound when he heard a deep, warm voice yell back in response.  
_Maybe they were bandits? Had they spotted him?_  
_No._  
The voice rang out again, low but not rough. It taunted her playfully. He had only ever met one man who sounded like that.

Every day for the past two weeks, he replayed the events of that night in his mind. For the first time in a very long time, someone had seen past his front. Dulpak said everything he needed to say. He was- they both were- gay. It only made things worse when he rose to defend the man. It was an automatic action that required no thought, somehow hardwired into his body. In that moment he was viciously protective, even _possessive_ of him.

Was it not obvious to everyone else? It had to be- Every eye in the room was on him. It was not against the law to be with another man, but it drew a certain...negative attention. An attention he didn't want to be branded with for the rest of his life in Markarth.  
He had dealt with the harassment before. The staring, avoidance, threats. On top of the normal disdain for orsimer, it was a heavy price to pay.

But as he moved to join the road, the sound of Dulpak's laughter stopped him. At what point in his life had he become so timid? Nagrul walked toward the sound as stealthily as a large, untrained orc could, taking care not to approach too quickly or too closely. He all but tripped over himself when he found what he sought.  
Dulpak and an older woman stood at opposite ends of a clearing, an enormous line of pale yellow flames and hazy frost cut between them. The air felt charged, like standing at the center of a brewing thunderstorm. Nagrul was unable to turn away.

"That's a fence, not a wall!" The woman barked over the clashing of their spells. She cast bursts of frost at the wall of flames that rose well over Dulpak's head, finding weak spots in a few places where the cold seeped through and sizzled.  
The orc didn't call back. Instead, he planted his feet firmly and narrowed his eyes. The blinding yellowy white reflected against his face as fire lashed out from his hands and rushed to reinforce the wall. Nagrul heard the woman shout her approval, but he couldn't pay attention to anything but Dulpak. The way his face set in focus, the way his body moved, wound tight with energy and power. He was in awe.

A brief pause in casting reminded Nagrul of his hiding place. He tore himself away and slipped onto the road in silence, but his mind exploded into thought.  
Dulpak would never be accepted by stronghold orsimer. He felt no shame in being inexperienced with hard labor or melee combat. When he felt comfortable, he was talkative to a fault. He absolutely couldn't hold his own in a fistfight. At times he was immature.  
But he was also intelligent. The ease with which he talked made him excellent company. His skill in magic was undeniable, so fending for himself would never be an issue. He had a warm, sleek but masculine face. And even with the looming threat of being discovered, Nagrul couldn't help but want to spend time with him.

The trip through town was a blur. Nagrul kept conversation short and had the good fortune to find a vendor selling paper and ink close to the gates. In those few hours he was able to make a decision- No matter what, he was going to talk to Dulpak again. 

He started along the road that left Markarth and cut directly into the trees, toward the clearing. The sun was high and warm. He grew closer and closer to the scorched circle of ground and noted the absence of charged air that set his hair on end that morning.  
There was only one person in the clearing this time. Nagrul stopped just short of the treeline to watch him.  
Dulpak sat at the foot of a tree, one heel dug into the ground and knee bent. He had stripped down to the bottom half of his robes, and his torso was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Nagrul noticed for the first time that he had dark brown hair- On his head, on his stubble covered jaw, along his arms, and on his stomach where a trail of it descended from his navel. His mind clouded with thoughts of where the trail led.

Dulpak lazily switched between mouthfuls of bread and some kind of dried meat. The woman was nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were done for the day, or maybe it was just a break. He didn't care either way, as long as they were alone.

"That's the fourth branch you've stepped on," Dulpak called out to the open in orcish, his voice uncharacteristically tense.  
Nagrul grimaced and hurried to sort himself out. He entered the clearing and the sun hit him like a spotlight.  
"I didn't mean-"  
"I'm sorry." Dulpak interrupted. In the sunlight he noticed the skin under the orc's eyes was darker than usual. He flooded with guilt, but couldn't find the words to continue

"I was stupid and...weak. It was fortunate to have you there." Dulpak continued, looking up at him in earnest. Nagrul forced himself to look back.  
"I'm worthless at fist fights, but the innkeeper told me you knocked that nord out quicker than she'd ever seen."  
Nagrul was the one to interrupt now- Not out of rudeness of urgency. He laughed. It was the first time he had done so in front of Dulpak. The orc didn't laugh back, but his wounded pride appeared to mend quickly.

"I shouldn't have left you there. Everyone was staring. It would have been dangerous for them to think we were..." Nagrul grew serious. He worried the honesty would catch him off guard, but to his relief Dulpak replied with the slightest hint of a smile.  
"I know."

Though silence fell between them, it wasn't painful like their first night or charged like their second. It was comfortable.

"I'm usually home in the afternoons. You could stay there. If you'd like." Nagrul gruffly extended an invitation with a faint tilt of the corner of his tusked mouth.  
The comfortable silence touched down again. Dulpak released a breath he seemed to have held in for ages and nodded.


	4. Hold out

As the daylight waned into afternoon, they found themselves fishing. Nagrul let his line drape across the glassy lake, while Dulpak seemed content to talk and drink. They had enjoyed each other's exclusive company for a week and a half and settled into an easy coexistence. 

"I've been meaning to ask you more about Orsinium," Nagrul said without preamble.

"What about it?"

He clarified as vaguely as he could, "What was it like being raised there? What was expected of you?" It was a strategic question, allowing him access to both of his current interests at the same time.

"Expected of me..." Dulpak nursed a bottle of spiced cider as he gathered his thoughts. He had taken quite a liking to it since he arrived and seemed intent on drinking a week's worth tonight.  
"My parents are both members of the guard, so you can imagine exactly what they expected from me. When I begged them not to be a warrior they assumed I was interested in government. When I did poorly at that, they tried trade apprentiships. I guess they were relieved I showed promise at being a mage."

"And _that sort of thing_ isn't...discouraged?" Nagrul asked, unable to hold his tongue. His tone was much more incredulous than he intended. Dulpak raised his eyebrows and made a sharp scoffing sound.

"Orsinium has been sacked and rebuilt four times. Why would any form of defense be discouraged? It's not the most honorable, but..." The orc drank steadily in between bursts of speech. "You can't just shut out the rest of the world."

It was a direct jab, and Nagrul flinched accordingly, but he kept any venom out of his rebuttle.  
"The world is only shut out because we do not wish to be sacked in the first place." He could feel Dulpak's ire beginning to grow and added quickly, "Are you the only child?"

After a short pause, Dulpak's face softened again. Thinking of his siblings appeared to be a pleasant exercise. "I have a twin brother. Nearly killed my mother to birth us both. Plus a younger sister."

Nagrul grinned at the thought of a twin somewhere in the world acting as strangely as Dulpak did.  
His friend took notice and added with a small laugh, "He's nothing like me. In the face, maybe. But he's like my father. I imagine he's made his way up in the guard by now." He gestured briefly toward Nagrul with a hand wrapped around cider.  
"Trust me, if you ever met him you'd know the difference."

His tone wasn't bitter or sarcastic in the way Nagrul expected. He spoke affectionately, and it was clear that he missed his twin.

"Your sister?" Nagrul probed with his eyes superficially focused on the lake, though all his attention was devoted to their conversation. He reset the line meaninglessly as Dulpak started up again.

"Last I remember, she was running goods for a merchant. Loves to travel. She's very...lofty. You know what I mean? She always cares for things that matter very little," His friend explained with his head craned, completely absorbed in fussing with a button on his shirt that refused to sit right.  
"You must get along well." Nagrul commented flatly. The smirk at his tusks was barely hidden.

Dulpak squinted and he looked to Nagrul in mock disbelief. "Did you just make a joke?" Nagrul's act crumbled almost instantly, and he was rewarded with the warmth of Dulpak's laugh.

He pulled the line in for good- They were seated comfortably by the lake and he no longer felt the need distract his eyes. "What was it like for you?" Dulpak had quieted down, and he approached the question with a hint of seriousness in his voice. With any other person his answer would have been less direct, but the longer they knew each other, the more Nagrul desired openness.

"My mother was third in line, less than the forge-wife to the chief. She was excellent with a battleaxe, though, so she wasn't without respect. My sister and I were trained in combat as early as I can remember. As is everyone in a stronghold." He dwelled briefly on the memory of his mother. Dulpak's eyes fell on him with the understanding that his mother was dead.

"I was required to contribute to the success of the stronghold as a warrior or a blacksmith but I couldn't...live up to that and remain happy at the same time. My sister came of age just after I left. She's arranged to marry a chief in the north. It's an honor, and unlike me she's able to do what is expected." The sentence was punctuated with a grunt and his words became heavy.  
"I'd love to see her again before she's married, but I'm never allowed back."

Dulpak nodded into the hand that cupped his chin. His back was hunched and for several minutes he seemed far away.

"I was arranged to marry too." He finally said in a small voice. Nagrul's breath caught- He turned quickly to Dulpak and received an almost mournful shrug in return.

"My father's an officer, and her father's wealthy. We knew each other well growing up. Once we got older she expressed her interest and the decision was all but made for me. I played along for awhile, but when things became serious... _sexually_...I did what I needed to." His eyes were wide and he trailed off with discomfort that seemed more complicated than sexual incompatibility. Nagrul nodded his understanding anyway and Dulpak laughed in relief, until a wolf howled in the not so distant treeline and he quieted abrubtly.  
It was well past sunset and night had crept into the sky. 

"Come on," Nagrul rose from his comfortable seat on the ground. His knees felt stiff and he groaned to himself. As he started on the path back to the house, he noticed with amusement that the other man was quite weary of his footing.

"If you can't handle your drink, perhaps you should have been the one fishing."

"Yeah, you certainly caught a lot," Dulpak taunted playfully at his side, grinning at his own joke. When he opened his mouth to continue his balance wavered, dipping precariously toward the edge of the trail. Without a thought, Nagrul wrapped an arm around his waist to catch him.

Every muscle in his body tensed as he realized how intimate their position might have looked to anyone passing by, but he kept the man's back braced against his arm. Dulpak muttered something quiet and leaned into his side, and the connection of their bodies burned pleasantly.

"Thanks," Dulpak spoke in a complacent voice when the house came into view minutes later. Nagrul could only nod, though a jumble of words stuck in his throat. He stiffly relinquished his hold and worked to unlock the door while the extra warmth slowly dissapated from his body.

There wasn't much discussion once they were safely inside- Dulpak collapsed onto his back on the upstairs bed, his expression tired but content. He fell asleep while Nagrul stowed away his line and sorted out the as of yet unfinished papers on Orsinium. His guest had inspired topics he hadn't considered before, and the section was already outlined.

Dulpak slept quietly, his mouth parted slightly open. In between drafts Nagrul watched him from the table by the fire, writing early into the morning as his posture slumped lower and lower.

\-----------

Dulpak was waist deep in a frozen river, naked and so cold that his body had no sensation. Though he was immobile he somehow knew Nagrul moved through the ice, approaching him from the south. The orc's arms wrapped around him, one across his chest and the other at his hips. He smiled and breathed quickly, icy vapor streaming from his mouth.  
Nagrul's forehead pressed gently against his neck, and it seemed his lungs couldn't fill with air. He touched the back of his left shoulder and found blood, and as he gasped for breath it gurgled and spilled from his mouth. The sky was a blinding white. 

Dulpak started awake and rubbed his face with his hands. These sorts of dreams had woken him many times before, stemming from what he assumed was an unconscious flow of worry and suspicion. But he had never dreamed of Nagrul. 

He sat up and looked toward the door. It was still early morning. His eyes panned blearily across until they settled on the table by the fireplace.  
_There's no way..._

He approached with all the excitement of a child discovering a secret. Nagrul was in a deep sleep across the table, head resting on his folded arms. There were a few scattered papers covered in pristine handwriting, and Dulpak carefully slipped one out from underneath the orc's large, calloused hand.  
What was intended to be a minute's glance became an hour of reading through stacked drafts. He took the seat opposite Nagrul, who stirred slowly.

"Morning," Dulpak said wrly over the top of the paper. His greeting was returned by a panicked snort.

"What time is it?" Nagrul made an effort to speak in his usual even tone, but he was clearly flustered. It was endearing. 

"Just after sunrise, I think. I woke up after a dream," Dulpak feigned a casual tone and set his jaw hard to keep from laughing. He turned the paper over and continued to read. Nagrul's face sank into his hands.  
"Did you sleep well?"

The man dropped his hands to the table loudly and shot him a glare. Dulpak only smiled in return, sliding the parchments back across the table in a pile. Nagrul took them begrudgingly- his expression was one of guilt and exasperation.  
"What do you think of it?"

"It's brilliant," Dulpak beamed, answering in all seriousness. "Is this what you really want to do?"  
Nagrul's face flushed at the compliment, but something that looked a lot like shame held him back.

"If my name were published...writing is not-"

"You've seen what other authors write about us, haven't you? Do you really think it should be left at _The Pig Children_ or _Orcs of Skyrim_? It doesn't matter what your stronghold thinks of you! This is important work, " He interrupted with a voice that he usually reserved for dealing with hesitant students. Nagrul looked back at him with the faintest hint of a smile, but during that pause he suddenly remembered a nagging obligation cast aside in the morning's excitement.

"Elanna wanted to meet at sunrise today- What a pointless time to meet- Just because she wants to make things difficult-" Dulpak agitated himself into motion, grabbed his pack, and looked from the parchments to the door and back again. "I want to read more of it tonight, if you'll let me."  
Nagrul agreed with a short sigh and raised his hand to say goodbye as Dulpak slipped through the door.

\-----------

For once, Dulpak and Elanna didn't spend the day training. When he arrived only mildly late to their meeting, she greeted him with important news.  
The time had come to fulfill the second half of his business in Markarth.

They spent most of the morning planning a route to Solitude, where a nearby barrow was rumored to house a tome the college had presumed lost forever. It was a straight shot northeast, and he was comfortable enough with exploring nord tombs. But when Dulpak realized just how long the trip would take, he felt ill.  
_A month at least. And after that, what then? I'd just have to go back to Winterhold. I can't stay here forever._

In the early afternoon they drifted between vendors, stocking up on supplies for the assignment while his mind worked feverishly to find a viable solution. He didn't know the extent of the orc's attachment to him, but he knew that he wasn't ready to leave things behind yet.  
When they finally parted ways for the evening, Dulpak found himself rushing to see Nagrul. The effort paid off- When he reached the house, Nagrul was having a short lunch, and the arrival caught him by surprise.  
"Does something concern you?"

Dulpak briefly considered waiting until the night, when he could explain things calmly, but the nausea in his gut compelled him.  
"I have to leave for Solitude tomorrow morning. It's...I knew it had to happen, I just didn't expect the trip to be so long."

His gaze dropped to an abnormally full pack as he sat on the upstairs bed. Nagrul took the time to do the mental math, and the length of the absence appeared to dawn on him.  
"I see," He made eye contact from the table. "If the girl and her husband arrive before you return, I may not be at the house. But I _will_ be in Markarth."

Whatever it was they had, Nagrul was willing to continue it, and that small piece of information gave him the confidence to set his plan into motion.

"I'll have to return to the college once it's finished. When I leave here for good, I want you to come with me," Dulpak stated firmly. There was a warmth to his words that was both affectionate and urgent. For a span, Nagrul seemed trapped in his own thoughts, shifting through states of decisiveness.

"Where will I live?"

"I have a home outside of the city." Dulpak returned plainly, stifling any anxiety that might seep out. "Once this house is taken back, do you have a place to live in Markarth?"

"No, but-"

"You could write. It would be a new start, and you'd have the resources there to find work in it or publish if you wanted." The idea seemed to stir Nagrul. After a long, rough sigh that Dulpak had come to recognize as a sign of reluctant acceptance, the air in the room cleared.  
"They have an incredible library at the college. The keeper reminds me of you, actually..."

"Does he?" Nagrul's eyes narrowed in anticipation of the joke he knew was coming.

"He does," Dulpak leaned back on his palms, "He's an orc. He's old and stubborn. Spends most of his day looking through ancient books."

"I'm not yet considered old," Nagrul grumbled. His break for lunch had drawn to an end, and he cleared his food.  
As he left to return to work, he added, "Give me time to think on it. You'll have your answer tonight."

The night arrived at an agonizingly slow pace. Dulpak willed himself to think only of the journey ahead as he doubled checked supplies.  
In just under a month he had grown attached. Much of his adulthood was marked by purely physical relationships with no real sense of commitment, satisfied sexually but never able to feel stability with another person. The idea of any kind of permanence was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

He was engrossed in conditioning the leather of his boots when Nagrul returned. They greeted each other silently. The orc retrieved his writing and a generous amount of dried fish, and sat facing the fire.  
"Do you have any bread?"

Dulpak brought it without a word, and for awhile they just ate in each other's presence until he couldn't avoid it any longer. He looked to the orc, concerned and expectant, and Nagrul nodded.  
"Alright."

In the aftermath of his decision they were both quiet. Whenever the opportunity for conversation arose, Dulpak found himself too happy or distracted to say anything at all, and his friend wasn't usually keen to be the first to speak. By the end of dinner Nagrul cleared everything but his work to one side of the table.  
"Do you mind if I write?" He checked.  
"Go ahead." The scratching of quill on paper filled the room, and Dulpak returned to search his belongings.

He worked with resolute determination, though he no longer felt the pressure in his chest that made him rush from task to task. The last bit of the plan was the easiest.  
Eventually he found it- A beaten, dog-eared book with no title. His journal. He approached Nagrul from behind and leaned over his chair, right arm extended to both support his weight and offer the book. His chest pressed against the man's shoulder and their upper arms brushed together.  
"You should read this while I'm gone," Dulpak spoke close to his ear. His voice was low and it rumbled through their chests, heated and blatantly sensual.

Nagrul released the quill and pressed into him, almost nuzzling his head into the slope of Dulpak's neck. Their hands connected.

Suddenly Nagrul tensed. Dulpak gave him room to rise and realized when they stood facing each other that an unchecked blush covered his face and collar. Everything else but the orc blurred in his vision.

"Keep yourself alive. I'll see you in a month," Nagrul said softly, clearly restraining himself. He was a few feet away, at arm's length, frustratingly close.  
He turned, and they parted for the night.


	5. Time spent apart

_I could marry her and take the pressure off us. We could keep living in the city. We could still see each other. But it means making a vow I cannot keep. It's not her fault that I've chosen to love him._

In the absence of a companion, Nagrul's life moved through a steady routine. Work during the day, read and write at night, buy and sell in town on the weekend.  
He sat on the staircase at the front door of the house, slowly turning pages while stew cooked inside. It was neither cold nor warm- The afternoon felt still and humid.

Dulpak's journal contained infrequent accounts of his life, many of them written at times when he suspected he might die. Some passages spoke of torrid relationships, to the point where Nagrul felt jealous. Had that been his intention? Probably not. 

_I'm leaving for Winterhold in the morning. I don't owe anyone an explanation._

At the time of the entry, Dulpak was still a young man in Orsinium. He was caught up in a kind of optimistic love affair with the brother of the girl he had agreed to marry- A desperate need for secrecy and his own immaturity told him to run from them both. He had _neglected_ to mention that part of the story during their evening at the lake.

Nagrul read at a gradual pace, exhausting a few pages each day as the month progressed. The drawn out exercise made him feel close to Dulpak even as he traveled further and further away. It was a great sign of trust to be given such clear documentation of the orc's shortcomings.

He leaned back against the railing and looked to the unending sky. It was wide, so wide it appeared to swallow the world, and he was cast out into its center.  
In the light of Dulpak's confessions, his own flaws were glaring. He pressed a palm against the front of his right shoulder, where the distinctive shape of another orsimer's bite branded him. It was the mark he had once exchanged with another man, meant as a binding promise of companionship between members of his race.

_Skyrim is beautiful, but so isolated compared to Orsinium. Maybe I can return once I've finished my studies here._

Nagrul wished to leave his own selfishness behind. 

\----------

Elanna and Dulpak glanced at each other, wordlessly communicating information from either side of the barrow's open entrance. It was quiet and snowing- The bandit's voices carried clearly from inside.  
Seconds passed. She pointed curtly, and they hurried inside.

Though they were both mages, the duo operated like an archer and a swordsman. Elanna kept several yards behind the orc, catching two men off guard by chaining lightning between them. By the time the group turned to fight- three in all- Dulpak was only a few feet away from a towering nord woman in heavy armor. He kept close, barely out of her range, lobbing firebolts like punches in an attempt to remove her breathing room. Without magic, he was a useless fighter. With it, he could translate magicka into a relentless, destructive force.

The woman roared and heaved her axe with more agility than he anticipated- It came crashing down to the right of his foot. He scrambled to back off and she raised it again, her stance indicitave of an arc to his sternum. A desperate burst of flame staggered her, and he siezed the opportunity to finish. A wave of frost sapped her stamina, followed by a massive, barely-contained ball of fire to the neck. Her cry stopped short, and she crumpled.

Dulpak snapped back to his surroundings. His fight with the woman had given the other two enough time to reach Elanna, but when he turned to her, she was busy laying lightning runes under the feet of only one bandit. Where had the other gone?  
He scanned the room dizzily. Suddenly the barrow's entrance seemed to stretch for miles.

And then there was no sound at all except for the ringing of his ears. An agonizing pain tore through Dulpak's torso, just under the ribs. For a moment he stood frozen like a gutted animal and his robes soaked with blood. Elanna shouted something indiscriminant- His broken scream had caught her attention, but she was kept busy with her own fight.

He reached out to the nothingness in front of him and his hand sunk into pliable leather. A panicked man materialized before him and brought the dagger to his throat. The fine edge ghosted against his skin.

It was a narrow miss.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before a cloak of near-white flame enveloped them completely. The man writhed under his grip.

When the fire wore down both men dropped to the floor. Dulpak propped his back against a wall, a trembling hand pressed against the wound. A dim golden light trickled into it, but he knew his own spell wouldn't be of much help. Restoration had never been a real area of focus and the cleaved flesh ran deep.  
The bandit's corpse lay hideously burned at his side- It stank of seared flesh. 

"Don't push into it, it's never going to stop bleeding like that," Elanna said at his side, winded but unharmed. With steady hands she unbuckled the front of his robes and peeled them from his torso. Dulpak groaned appreciatively and she shook her head. A small flask was shoved into his hand. He put it to his lips knowingly as she muttered something disparaging about recklessness.

The potion began its work from the inside, contracting muscle painfully while Elanna invaded from the outside with a prickling healing spell. In many ways it was like feeling two needles stitching you up from opposite directions. He groaned.  
"Just drink. You want to see your _friend_ again, don't you?"  
She chuckled while Dulpak choked on the pinkish liquid.

On the trip into Solitude, Elanna had been quick to notice his moodiness. It was only a matter of time before she guessed that he spent the past few weeks wooing a woman in Markarth. He didn't bother to correct her. Rather, he admitted to harboring feelings for another person, though they were complicated and at times unclear.  
Nagrul consumed his thoughts night and day.

It was over an hour before they moved through the barrow again. Dulpak's mangled top had been torn into bandages, and he wore a looted black robe at Elanna's behest. Between the two of them, lightweight valuables went missing quite shamelessly. The barrow was in all aspects a tomb, but the long dead had little need for gold. 

Their journey inward was quite uneventful compared to its start. The usual assortment of undead and ancient traps punctuated an otherwise eerie quiet.  
"Is that why you prefer to use flame spells?" Elanna asked, looking as if she had dawned on a great revelation while Dulpak stepped over the body of a freshly dead draugr.

"I'm not sure what you mean?" He replied, forehead wrinkled in confusion. The pair spoke in hushed tones with one eye always on the path ahead.

"Because you're an orc! If mining and smithing is so important to orcs, you must have grown up with it. That's what being a smith is about at its core, isn't it? Manipulating fire and metal?"  
She had a point. He was ridiculously unsuccessful with metalwork, but it was undeniable that a large portion of orsimer had a passion for it. Unfortunately he preferred flame for a much less noble reason.

"I use it because it takes less magicka to cast than frost or lightning."  
Elanna reprimanded him with a playful elbow to the arm and he grinned.

"That's one of the laziest things I've ever heard. From anyone. Absolutely lazy."

As they continued down the narrow passage, a cold, dusty breeze blew past. It opened up into a cavernous room pooled with dim, blue water. A waterfall poured through a crack in the ceiling, and the only path across was an eroded bridge of land. On the other side, Dulpak could see a much smaller room with three carved pillars and a lever. _Wonderful, a puzzle..._  
For a moment the dagger wound burned and he touched the bandaging unconsciously, finding fresh blood. Somehow, it was the first serious scar he had ever gotten.

"I think it would be safest if you pulled the lever," Elanna suggested while she scoured old vines from the walls of the final room, checking for any semblance of a clue.

"PLEASE--"

"If we get the combination wrong, it'll be poison arrows. You're probably twice my weight, so we'll have longer to administer an antidote," she finished in her cheery, mothering tone. After spending so much time alone with Nagrul, he had almost forgotten his appearance relative to the outside world. Elanna had an irritatingly valid point.

"Snake, eagle, whale, maybe?" Dulpak rotated pillars idly as if they would give up and tell him the answer.  
"I think..." The breton woman took a step back to survey the room again, "there _was_ a guide, but it's gone now. We'll have to guess."  
He cursed in orcish under his breath. 

"I worked out what that means weeks ago!" Her chiding made him vaguely sentimental- She would get along well with his own mother.

"Fine. My guess is snake, whale, eagle."  
Dulpak rotated the three pillars a final time and approached the lever. _Land, sea, and sky._  
The lever flipped. He winced preemptively.  
But no volley of arrows came. Instead, the din of stone grinding against stone sounded from the cavernous room behind them.

Both mages rushed to the bridge, only so see that nothing in particular seemed different.  
Elanna's palm glowed blue and light bubbled across her skin. She was lowering herself into the water before Dulpak had a chance to think.  
"I'll search the water, stay here and keep watch."

With the aid of the water breathing spell, his partner stayed submerged for several minutes. It was all the more disappointing when she surfaced empty-handed.  


" Wait..." Dulpak scratched at the edge of his bandages idly with a hand on his hip.  
"What about an entrance behind the waterfall?"

Elanna was gone in a flash again. This time, she cried back to him excitably.  
"It's here!"

"What's it for?" Their enthusiasm was equally intense.  
_What if it's a new form, some destruction-based water spells would be incredib--_

"Looks like it's for illusion. Mass invisibility!"

His face sank and the wound burned again. _Of course._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the one after it mention marking, something that I really like the idea of but have seen used in other stories. I have no idea who came up with it initially. So I'd like to give credit to people like Zoop who've written about it so well.


	6. Time spent together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite lewd. Just a warning.

Nagrul worked quietly, splitting logs in a familiar place around the back of the house. The mid afternoon air was humid and it breathed along with him.  


A shape entered the edge of vision, dark haired and ambling. It spoke.

"I figured you'd be here."

By his estimation, Dulpak was a few days early. He set his hatchet aside and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead while the orc waited patiently, watching. Smiling.  
The accumulated frustrations of withholding feeling and affection poured out into him all at once. Dulpak had survived. They were free to travel together. They were alone.  
This time, there was no excuse to hold back.

Nagrul closed the distance between them and pressed their bodies together with an arm across the back. His free hand wrapped around the base of Dulpak's head, who had instinctively raised his arms between them in defense.

When Nagrul leaned forward to kiss him, their tusks met with a loud crack. He hastily repositioned and found access to Dulpak's mouth as arms slid up his chest to encircle his neck. They moulded together easily.

Dulpak cupped his jawline, kissing back while the two slowly ran out of oxygen. The exchange escalated rapidly- They traded tongues and their tusks came together audibly like stags fighting. In many ways it resembled a struggle for dominance, with one trying to gain ground against the other's body.

Eventually Nagrul won out, pinning Dulpak against the trunk of a wide, old tree. They broke for air and he abandoned the orc's lips to trail rough kisses down the curve of his long ear and jaw. Without the obstruction of another set of teeth, he was able to work nimbly and softly bite at his skin. Dulpak forced Nagrul's head down to his throat and moaned, chest heaving.  
A roll of the hips brought their erections together and it became a race to cast clothing aside without tearing it in the process. They were shirtless in a matter of seconds.  


"How'd you get this?" Nagrul growled between hungry mouthfuls of his collarbone, fingers pressed against a long horizontal scar. Dulpak's back arched into his touch.

"Cut open by a dagger." The smaller orc answered breathlessly. Nagrul groaned his approval. It really was a beautiful wound.

"This?" He slid a thumb across the very faint line at Dulpak's neck and moved to press a few heated kisses into it.

"The same dagger. And I got _this_ from shaving," He joked, tilting his head to show off a tiny nick under his jaw. Nagrul smiled against his skin.

When the opportunity arose to catch Nagrul off guard, Dulpak took it. Fingers raked down his stomach and disappeared under the waist of his pants, finding what begged to be touched. Their positions flipped. In the haze of lust, Nagrul had almost forgotten about the imprint of another man on his right shoulder.

"Tell me about yours." Dulpak ordered, voice uncontrollably aroused. The memory of the old mark brought a wave of guilt.

"It was a long time ago...When I first left the stronghold. I have no intention of ever seeing him again." Nagrul kept his eyes low and took a long breath to apologize, but when he tried to speak it was soundless.  
Dulpak steadied him with one hand and stroked at his length with the other- His tusks slid mercilessly into the flesh of his left shoulder.

Nagrul could do nothing but dig his nails into Dulpak as the bite deepened.  
For the second time in his life, he was marked.  
Between orsimer it held deep affection and the promise of commitment. It was a claim given and accepted willingly, and to endure it was incredibly satisfying.

By the time they released their grip on each other, Nagrul could think only of returning the mark.  
He hardly noticed when Dulpak ghosted a small flame over his wound to help it scar, or when they moved to the grass together, pulling away clothes and breathing heavily. Soon he was positioned at the entrance of the orc on elbows and knees beneath him.  
Nagrul wet himself with saliva, but after a few inches of guiding in there was a hiss of discomfort.

"Get the vial from the front pocket," Dulpak gestured to his pack and Nagrul disengaged briefly to fumble through it. He spread the tiny bottle's oily contents over his cock, and their second attempt at penetration found him halfway inside. Dulpak shuddered and rocked back to take the rest while stroking his own hardness.

In the privacy of the woods, the pair coupled without the fear of being overheard. Had prying ears been closer, they were likely too caught up in the moment to care.  
Nagrul worked desperately to mediate his pace despite rippling pleasure and the desire to claim Dulpak for himself. One hand braced the ground, the other gripped the crease between the orc's thigh and hip like a handle. His partner's stream of moans and cursing only made his bid for control more difficult.

Nagrul hooked his arm around Dulpak's neck, bringing him upright for leverage- Dulpak pressed his hand against a tree to keep steady.

"I'm close," the man bit back after some span of time that could have been seconds or minutes or hours. It felt so good Nagrul did not care which. Dulpak exposed his neck as if asking to be marked, and while Nagrul pressed them together chest to back he climaxed onto himself.

Dulpak shivered in the wake but didn't get time to recover.  
Nagrul tightened his hold and tore into the back of his right shoulder savagely. It was painful- Dulpak let out a ragged cry and trembled beneath him- but he wanted _so badly_ to link them together.  
When he removed his tusks blood flowed, and he met his release seconds later.

\----------

It was late. Warm light glowed orange in the basement room. Dulpak tried to prop himself up but didn't find it worth the effort- Every muscle, every organ, every tissue in his body ached. He had not been so thoroughly fucked in a long time.

They were pleasantly intertwined in a warm pile on the bed. His stirring woke Nagrul, who returned a soft look upon meeting his eyes. When he made a second attempt at rising, Nagrul wrapped an arm around his waist and he was drawn into pleasant sleep again.

Gently sloshing water and the clean, bitter smell of crushed plants woke him a second time around. He was sprawled comfortably across the bed. Nagrul sat beside him dressed in pants, patiently applying warm water and salve to the arm closest to his lap. Now that Dulpak looked, he realized his body was littered with small bruises and scratches from several rounds of rough physical contact.The mark on his shoulder was wholly swollen as it tried to heal. It bruised a vibrant purple against his dark skin.

It was gruesome. Unlike the gash to his stomach, Dulpak was glad to have it. To residents of Orsinium marking was something done privately, when a pairing finally succumbed to their basest feelings. Everyone knew of it, and nobody talked about it.

"Do people ever talk about marking in strongholds?" Dulpak asked sleepily. The relaxing effect of warm water on his body was impossible to resist.

"Yes. But it's only celebrated with _acceptable_ couples." Nagrul replied, unaware that he had woken up.

"Are you implying we're not acceptable?"

Dulpak smiled wrly up at Nagrul and the look he returned was a new one- He was completely at ease.  
Nagrul leaned over him to wash old blood from his shoulder. He dried it with a clean cloth and rubbed salve in, and Dulpak squirmed under the stinging. His companion breathed a laugh.

"I'm going to attend to yours as well." Dulpak muttered, letting his eyes close for a moment. The larger orc was just as beaten as he was.

"You won't be using healing spells." Nagrul teased quietly.

"You've chosen a mage, why can't..." A calloused hand nudged him just so to gain better access to his chest.  
"You're stubborn..."  
Warmth seeped in with the gradual intensity of sunlight on a fair day. He was asleep before he could complete the thought.


	7. Whiterun Hold

The morning after Dulpak's return bristled with anticipation. He stood over an unfurled map, animatedly tracing out a path to Winterhold.

"If we stick to the roads we'll pass through Whiterun." 

With a renewed sense of clarity, Nagrul insisted they spend the day planning. He knew the rightful homeowner and her husband would be arriving any day now, and appeared to be relieved at the thought of leaving Markarth behind.

"I think a straight shot northeast would be best." Nagrul interjected from the fireside table as he tried out different methods of folding what had become quite a thick stack of papers. It was one of the longer sentences he had bothered saying that morning. 

For awhile Dulpak just watched him cycle through stages of handsome determination. Nagrul frequently took pause to think and when he acted it was with confidence.  
The absence of a response drew attention.

"Have you found a better route on my face?" Nagrul asked in a low voice before drawing his eyes back down to the unruly parchment.

Dulpak barely repressed a laugh. He knew the sudden boldness of the previous night was a rare occurrence. Under the pressure of flirtation his companion became bashful, an amusing trait that failed to discourage any behaviour of the sort.  
He crossed the room and they were face to face, the stack between them.

"Just wrap it in hide and tie it up. That way you don't have to crease anything," he suggested, to which Nagrul's brow relaxed.  
"Does that solve it?"

"Yeah." He received a warm tone in thanks.

Dulpak drew closer and snaked a hand up the orc's chest-Nagrul caught it in the ascent and covered it with his own. 

"I don't think you'll get much work done on the way."  
Dulpak brought himself closer still. His companion wrapped a hand around his hip bone and held his pelvis firmly in place. Their lips met, but as quickly as they came together they were pulled apart.  
A small knock at the door echoed around the room. Nagrul cleared his throat and attempted to sober himself.

"Erm...Nagrul?"

On the other side of the answered door was a waifish young woman with mousey brown hair that fell past her back in one thick braid. A lanky man with a long auburn beard stood reassuringly at her side, bow and quiver slung over his shoulder.  
Though it was undoubtedly harder to read his face, Dulpak knew Nagrul was just as nervous as she was. They eyed him suspiciously- He was content to watch from a seat at the table.

"Lislith?" The woman's eyebrows jumped as if she hadn't expected to hear her own name. When Nagrul extended his hand she shook it, dwarfed in his palm. The man at her back leaned forward to offer both hand and name.  
"Onfeig," he boomed in a distinctly nord fashion.

Lislith followed up in the wake of her husband's confidence.  
"I apologize for not sending a letter earlier. We couldn't find a courier once we got on the road..."

"It is not a bother."

"My uncle told me such nice things about you. Thank you so much for..."

Nagrul's face darkened. "Your uncle was a great friend to me. It's an honor to carry out one of his last requests."

"We can stay in Markarth while you...I didn't give you much notice and I'm sure you'd need time to get everything ready."

Dulpak watched the two awkwardly dance around each other in conversation. From the threshold, Onfeig was just as attentive. They briefly met each other's eyes across the room and exchanged a commiserating glance.

"Actually, Nagrul and I were in the middle of packing. We planned to head off to Winterhold as soon as you arrived," Dulpak interrupted smoothly, much to Nagrul and Lislith's collective relief.

"Winterhold?" Onfeig was incredulous as he crossed the threshold to join the table. After another polite smile at Nagrul, his wife followed.

Dukpak leaned forward on his elbows as he spoke and adjusted his voice to meet the man's gregarious energy.  
"Back to the college before winter sets in."

Onfeig's expression scrunched and even Lislith leaned closed to speak. Just behind them, Nagrul mouthed his thanks and made a swift escape.

"Nagrul didn't mention he was a mage in our correspondence." Her eyes widened with the slightest hint of excitement and he grinned softly.

"Ah, he's a writer, actually. I'm the mage."  
He imagined the grimace Nagrul no doubt wore downstairs. Lislith opened her mouth in reply but her words dissapeared in Onfeig's laughter.

"That's one of the funnier things I've heard in awhile," the nord choked. She frowed slightly- Her shoulder jerked as if hitting her husband under the table.

"If you'll excuse me for a minute."  
Dukpak swallowed his anger behind a quick, disingenuous smile and left for the basement.

He found Nagrul fastening traveling armor, a combination of metal plate, hide, and cloth that complemented his muscular build in a rather distracting way.

"Something funny?" The orc spoke low amidst the din of Lislith and Onfeig's chatter.  
_Hilarious._  
Dulpak dismissed it with a sneer. "Is that really all you're bringing?"

Nagrul grunted as if amused. A sparse set of clothes, two books, and a relative mountain of papers flanked his satchel. "Plus food, potions, money, something to write with. And a weapon."  
His eyes darted from Nagrul's broad chest to a hulking battleaxe against the wall. Unadorned but well smithed, it was clearly orcish in make.

Dulpak lifted his own pack, so full of belongings that he couldn't recall exactly what was inside. As the strap came to rest on his right shoulder it screamed with pain. A sharp gasp left his lips and Nagrul turned on his heel.

"Is your mark still swollen?" The orc's fingers brushed at the high collar of his robes.  
"It's fine, I only forgot it was there." Dulpak shifted weight to his other shoulder.  
"You bandaged yours?"  


Nagrul confirmed.  
In the early morning he had flushed his sleeping companion's wound with a weak healing spell. By all measures the endeavor seemed successful and he was reassured in knowing infection was much less likely.

Another hour came and went, and after a clumsy but genuine exchange of goodbyes between Lislith and Nagrul he stood before the house for the last time. They gave it a parting glance.

"Are you relieved to be rid of it?" Dulpak asked what he assumed was a rhetorical question while he took a few steps back. The forest came into view and he realized it was speckled with the yellowed leaves of fall. Wind cut through and the trees shuddered.

"I'm glad to have fulfilled a promise." 

Nagrul made his amends in silence. Memories surrounding the property must have flooded him. Dulpak was happy to observe without ever hearing of them.  
When his companion turned to join the road, Dulpak nudged him discreetly.

"I'm also glad to have met you." Nagrul said, firm and unmuddled as they started to walk.

"I'm also..." Dulpak began but couldn't finish. His neck felt hot.  
"Thank you."

\--------------------

In the back of Dulpak's mind, there was always the worry that the strains of travel would bring out the worst in them. They had spent time alone before, but the solitude of an open road was another kind of test.

Days passed on into weeks. Sometimes Nagrul was set in his way and minor changes to plan distressed him. He could stay silent for hours at a time, pulling apart this worry or that in his mind.  
Other times, Dulpak felt panicked at the thought of commitment. Fleeting, it tightened in his chest one minute and ebbed away the next.  
But as night closed in on every day they sat close beside a fire, pressed against each other or conversing intimately while they took turns keeping watch. 

The entirety of it was satisfying in a way he had not expected.

Now, waist deep in a cool river just west of Whiterun, Dulpak made slow work of bathing. Nagrul sat on dry ground a few yards away, making notes occasionally in the margins of a book while there was still daylight. Their position was relatively safe- He relaxed in loose clothing with armor piled neatly to the side.

The water ran lazily. Dulpak picked a flat rock from the bottom and skipped it across the surface. It crossed the bank and landed against the span of Nagrul's back with a thud. The orc shot him a pointed look over his shoulder in mock offense. Dulpak returned his expression jokingly. 

"Are you going to bathe all evening?" Nagrul called from his reading. Dulpak grinned to himself as he dried and dressed. 

"I took no longer than ten minutes."  
He sat shoulder to shoulder, hair and skin still damp. Nagrul leaned closer and inhaled the faint, clean scent of soap that wafted from his body. 

"You're so quick to fight that I assumed you'd be quick to do everything else."  
Though the road thus far was well traveled and fairly clear, Dulpak preferred to end altercations before Nagrul had any chance to enter them. His partner noticed it after the first few days, praising and chastising in turns ever since.

Dulpak fished out the map. They would reach Whiterun within a day or so, but the prospect of staying in a warm room for the night wasn't particularly tempting. He didn't really like either of the city's inns.  
Two kisses pressed into the meeting of his neck and jaw- the first quick and the second lingering- before Nagrul reached over to touch a point northeast of Whiterun.  
"That's where I was raised. Against the mountain ridge."

The admission came as a surprise. Nagrul rarely mentioned his home or family aloud, though it seemed to consume his thoughts at times.  
"Homesick?"

"In a way." Nagrul focused on the treetops, speaking distantly.  
"I admit, I'd like to meet with Yatgakh." His sister's name had only been used once before. 

"Does she still live there?" Dulpak took advantage of the change in mood.

"Hopefully."

"Then seen her!" He raised his voice and gestured to the open air while Nagrul's head shook slowly. 

"I can't just walk in."

"I could." The words barely left his mouth before Nagrul laughed curtly.  
"They would sooner welcome me back."  
He wore a bitter mix of grimaces. 

"Nobody has to know I've entered."

"No. Don't even suggest it."  
Nagrul went on but he stopped listening.  
A plan turned circles in his mind and he interruted coolly.  
"Why did you agree to come with me to Winterhold?"

Nagrul rubbed his face in his hands and played the scratching sound of beard against skin until he was sure enough in his answer.  
"I've spent too much of my life content with being alone. I felt I could trust you at the start and in the time we've traveled together that hasn't changed. You're a risk I'm willing to take."  
Dulpak's neck burned again- It crept into his ears and he reached out to rest his hand at the top of his companion's thigh. 

"We can try to find her. It might work, it might not, but you won't have to sit and worry about it for the rest of your life."  
Another few seconds wore Nagrul down. He conceded begrudgingly. 

\--------------------

Late in the morning- later than he had intended- Dulpak approached the steep crest of a hill overlooking a semicircle of wooden wall set back against a rocky cliff face. The sky was cold, clear, and bright. He could see for miles in every direction. 

A small assortment of orcs dotted the stronghold's territory, many of which were Nagrul's relatives. Today they hoped his sister was among them.  
He rounded the hill and on the descent could just make out a statuesque figure in orcish armor, consulting with an equally armored woman at the high point of the gates. According to their plan he was to meet with one of them and pass a letter along to Yatgakh. Nagrul had no hope of approaching his home again, so the simple task was one Dulpak agreed to do alone.

He was close enough now to smell charred wood and breakfast, barely out of the gatekeeper's view. A young woman paused just outside the walls to check her armor, and when Dulpak saw her he knew who she was as once.  
She had thick black hair tucked back behind her ears and striking cheekbones that sat high on her face. Like Nagrul, her skin was a dusty green like dried grass and her eyes were the same dark mixture of grey and blue. She matched his description of Yatgakh vividly. 

Dulpak weighed options franticly as she made off for the woods with a hunting bow strapped across her back. He could try to speak with the gatekeeper, who had little reason to grant the request of an outsider. _Or_ he could give the letter to her in person.

It seemed she was used to hunting- Yatgakh moved deftly and he strained to keep up. He followed her further and further away from the stronghold, her pace quickening until he felt they were safely out earshot.

"Wait!" Dulpak's voice jumped the distance between them in orcish, more like an order than the casual request he intended. Her bow was drawn on him in an instant.

"Step back," she demanded viciously while her eyes assessed every inch of him.  
"No, hold on, I don't want to fight you." He raised his hands slowly and kept his tone submissive, but his accent only angered her.

"Yet you followed me here!" She pressed closer, intimidating and tightly wound.  
"Just give me a second..." Dulpak pulled the letter from his pocket all too quickly- She loosed an arrow that tore through the letter and the webbing between his forefinger and thumb.

The pain elicited a cry that he suppressed quickly and he opted to ball the paper in his hand instead.  
"It's from Nagrul. He wants to speak with you."

"How do you know my brother?" Yatgakh grew no less vicious, though her brow bent in confusion rather than severity.  
"That's not something I can answer easily," his voice wavered. He cradled his bleeding hand. She breathed an impatient snort and he glared back. 

"He's...it's not..." Dulpak struggled. The sound of her bow tensing, ready to fire into his chest, crackled between them.

" _Now_."

"He's my lover!"

The bowstring slacked. Something close to disgust crossed Yatgakh's face and he threw the bloodied letter to the ground near her feet.  
"He wants to talk before sunset, read it yourself."  
Dulpak left her stunned, tearing back the way he came and fuming while he concentrated a healing spell into his latest injury.

\--------------------

At the foot of the hill, Nagrul attempted to stave off worry and guilt. The last family member he felt any sense of connection to could be on the other side. Maybe she wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Maybe he had failed or abandoned her in some way. The issue was his and his alone, yet he had no say in it.

"She got the message," Dulpak announed his return simply. He flashed his hand, palm forward, and Nagrul recognized the aftermath. It was healed shut but stiff with dried blood. 

"And she gave you that?" He made every attempt to steady his voice. Dulpak tensed as he settled on the ground.  
"She was out hunting. I decided it would be better to talk to her in person."  
Nagrul's face preemptively sank into his hands. Dulpak make quick work of getting the worst bit over with.  
"She threatened to shoot me, and I told her about...us."

"I'm sorry, I know following her like that was a bad idea," the orc offered into the silence, but Nagrul felt too sick to respond. His body set like stone while his insides tore away at him.  
"She didn't know," he started quietly. 

"It wasn't my intention..." Dulpak tried but his words made no difference. Nagrul didn't bother to look at him- He kept his eyes still and straight ahead, unfocused in their attempt to hold back ire.

"Why don't you _ever_ think before you act?"  
Dulpak shifted uneasily and Nagrul bore in.  
"Why would you follow her in the first place! Do you always have to do the first thing that comes to your mind?"  
They faced each other, and in that moment his words cut just as deeply as he wanted them too.

Dulpak's warm, fluid voice turned defiant.  
"At least I told my brother after I got to Skyrim. You can't be honest with your own sister?"

"What I choose to tell her is not up to you. You make whatever stupid decision you want and I'm the one who has to bear the consequences!"  
Neither man shrank from the other.  
"What's worse? Being stupid or living your life as a _coward_?" Dulpak delivered his attack smugly, refusing to look anywhere but directly into his eyes before he left.

Hours passed and Nagrul didn't care to find out where the orc had gone. The worst of his anger subsided, but he couldn't shake off resentment while their argument still hummed through the empty forest. Every attempt to distract himself failed- As the sun fell he assumed he would spend the rest of the day alone.

But there she was.  
Yatgakh appeared to him like smoke though it had been so long since they saw each other last. He smiled gently, relieved in some strange way just to see her again, and she did the same.  
"You don't look any different," she teased in the stillness.

Nagrul spoke lightly even as worry knotted in his stomach.  
"I owe you an apology, Yatgakh. For leaving you alone the way I did. I know you'll be marrying soon and I just...want to know you're well."

Yatgakh crossed her arms across her chest to process his explanation. He couldn't quite read her face.  
"I've met him. He's nice enough," she decided shortly. 

"How many wives does he have before you?"

"Only one," she shrugged, "and she's not good at much. I could easily become his favorite."  
She seemed satisfied but Nagrul continued seriously.  
"You don't have to go through with it if you're not happy. I can help you leave."  
Her loud exhale dismissed his concern.

"I can take care of myself, you don't have to do it for me. If I wanted to leave I would have left."  
Yatgakh drew closer, severe without anger or cruelty, until he could see that her expression was one of distaste.  
"I should be the one asking questions. Is it true?"

"Yes."  
Perhaps Dulpak was right and it was his cowardice that got him here. But he wasn't a liar.

"I cannot pretend to understand it," she scowled. Nagrul found he couldn't meet her eye.  
"Is that why you left? Because you can't control yourself? I'm sure there's some way you can fix it."

"It's not something that needs to be fixed!" Nagrul snapped to his own defense and his head throbbed from the repeated strain the day's argument. She jumped in to challenge him.

"You've chosen to make your life more difficult. For what? Someone else just as sick as you are! How can I not worry about you?"

" _Don't ever talk about him like that._ "  
It was as if she had brought a knife to Dulpak's throat- He became instinctively, uncontrollably protective. Nagrul's conviction was tangible, it lit up Yatgakh's eyes and she shouted back with matching vitriol.

"Then you can learn to live with the you choice you've made. _You_ left. The stronghold isn't your home anymore, stop concerning yourself with it."

Again he was alone. This time he felt he deserved it.  
Nagrul found his way back to their camp, thinking of nothing in particular but his own idiocy.  
In a way, she was right. He still held on to a responsibility that had long since stopped being his.

At camp he seated himself a short distance from his partner, who withdrew icily at the sight of him. Nagrul glanced wearily, sick with exhaustion from a swarm of things he hoped he didn't need to explain. The resentment fell away.

"Try to sleep. I'll keep watch first."  
Dulpak sat at his back, legs at either side while his arms wrapped around his waist. Nagrul sank back until his head pressed into the orc's chest.


	8. Before the full stop

It was afternoon, cloudy and freezing, but the road ran by a beautiful lake set against mountains and Nagrul couldn't complain. With every day that passed the weather grew colder and towns became further apart. __Somehow Dulpak had managed to fit a thick cloak into his pack, and as they walked he kept the furred collar drawn close to his face to block out wind. They were on course to stay in an inn by nightfall.  


"It's usually empty, maybe we can get a decent room..." Dulpak trailed off, staring ahead. Nagrul followed his line of sight along a deep, red rut in the snow.  
A Dunmer woman knelt over a mangled body in the rut and an Imperial man stood beside her. They stared back.

Dulpak surged ahead, blocking Nagrul's body with his own, and silence hung in between the four.

"I'll handle whichever attacks first, can you deal with the second?" Dulpak asked quietly in the tension.  
"I can." He answered.  
"Be careful, then."

Blue light spun from the woman's hand to the corpse and it rose slowly as if pulled up by the stomach. The pair said something incomprehensible to each other, the man readied his sword, and she sent lightning toward Dulpak. It cracked against the silvery wall of what he assumed was a ward and his partner was after the elf in a second. When she retreated back into the trees Dulpak chased until they were both just distant flashes of firery light.

Nagrul's opponent faced him with an unnerving lack of expression. They had just enough time to meet eyes, a few long seconds, before the man's sword swung down across his battleaxe.  
As the heavy weapons traded blows Nagrul felt his own lack of experience showing. He was by all accounts a civilian, and in a fight like this it showed.  
He took a step back, heart racing, and managed to land a wide but futile swing before the Imperial disarmed him quite skillfully.

Someone in the woods screamed- A loose spell shot out toward them. Both men scrambled to avoid it, and in the confusion Nagrul threw his weight into the man's chest and tackled him to the ground.  
The imperial dropped his sword and attempted to kick himself free, but Nagrul held his head steady by the hair and punched him hard in the mouth. A knee to the stomach knocked Nagrul back, followed by two hits to the center of his face. He knew something fractured, but everything rang and he only thought of survival.

They writhed in the snow without sportsmanship or decorum, biting, punching, kicking, and screaming in the hopes that one could kill the other.

Nagrul managed to beat his opponent unconscious on the rocky shore of the lake, forcing himself to watch as the man rolled off into the water between sheets of ice- It felt disrespectful to look away. He swallowed hard and tasted blood, the thin skin over his knuckles writhed.

Nagrul propped himself up on his elbows and saw the last of the Imperial bob and sink below the lake. When Dulpak came rushing back he sat upright, breathing noisily through his mouth. His right hand, inflamed behind the knuckles, was definitely broken, and his nose was beyond use. All at once he could feel how badly his body ached and the incredible adrenaline rush of being alive. 

"I could hear you fighting from the woods. Wish I could have seen it."  
His companion knelt to examine his face in profile.  
"Your nose is _really_ broken."

"Have you ever straightened one?"

"I broke my brother's once when we were children and managed to set it."  
Nagrul blinked slowly, entirely unsuprised.  
"It was an accident."

They positioned to face one another. Dulpak leaned close and brought both thumbs to either side of the swollen bridge of his nose. There was a crunch, cartilidge snapped together under skin, and he clenched his teeth to keep silent.  
Dulpak's fingers fell upon the bridge again, this time in slightly different places, and he pushed harder. The second snap was quieter but hurt much worse. A third and final adjustment shot pain through his eye sockets and into his sinuses. Still his face was stoic.

"Give me your hand," Dulpak ordered rather than asked. The warm palm slid underneath his, straightening each finger painfully. Something close to the feeling of standing near electricity invaded him and he became uneasy. The spaces between his knuckles burned like they were boiling while the few inches that separated them filled with clouds of frozen breath. 

Nagrul leaned in and pressed their foreheads together lightly.  
"You'll want to get it properly set later, this is a piss poor attempt," Dulpak muttered.  
He returned a small laugh despite the way the spell wrung the nerves in his hand. After a pause Dulpak said something else, quietly over the yellow light.  
"I'm in love with you, you know."  
Dulpak's clothes exhaled ash with every movement while his own soaked in blood, sweat, and melted snow.

"Yeah, I know," Nagrul breathed back.  
"I'm in love with you too."

Once the spell faded out he retrieved his hand and stretched every digit gingerly. It was sore and definitely not aligned correctly, but usable. The same could be said for his nose.  
He stepped out of the pile of snow that had gathered at his feet and looked up into a white sky.  
"It's getting worse, I don't know if we'll get to the inn before it's too heavy to see," he warned, but Dulpak was already a few yards ahead of him, messy haired and bundled in clothing. 

"Hurry up!" Dulpak called back. Nagrul smiled, lowered his head, and trudged on. 

\--------

When Dulpak pulled the door open a rush of firelight and hot air assailed him. They weren't the only ones put out by the weather- The Nightgate was crowded with people happy to be anywhere but outside. Snow dampened his beard and clothes, and he wiped the moisture from his face before approaching the bar.

"I'll take a room for two people if you have it," he spoke loudly to compensate for the noise. The inkeeper was too occupied with the unusual influx of meal orders to look him over, so Dulpak got away with a quick nod and exchange of septims.  
"It's just to your right, only room with the door still open," The beleaguered man tilted his head in the direction of the room, only glancing up when Dulpak caught his attention with another few septims.  
"And some wash water as well?"  
At his request the inkeeper looked him over, perhaps surprised to see that he had been talking to an orc. He took the coin regardless.

Their room was stubby and square, with a beamed roof that sloped away from the door to the opposite wall. It was a bit cramped but the bed was large enough that he didn't care either way.  
The water arrived much sooner than expected, steaming from the opening of an urn. Dulpak accepted it and closed the door behind him.

"Good idea," Nagrul glanced down at the state of his body as he shed armor. He was freckled across his shoulders from years of sun, firmly built and bruised along his torso. In truth, they looked similar in age- Nagrul only _occasionally_ acted like an old man.

Once the wash basin was filled, they took to wiping off blood and dirt. It was frigid outside, as it was every day of their travels through the north. But in that room, with the hearth roaring outside, the heat was enveloping.  
Dulpak didn't bother with tact. He stared blatently and kissed at his partner's heavy jaw the second washing was done.

Nagrul reached back blindly and his palm met the edge of a dresser that slammed against the wall when it took his weight.  
"How have we not broken anything before," Dulpak thought aloud as he briefly separated to pull the bed's frame away from the wall. He was loud enough as it was, there was no use risking extra noise.

He leaned back onto the pelts, waiting for Nagrul to lie by his side. Instead, he was pulled on his back toward the edge of the bed, where the man kneeled and lavished attention onto his lower body.  
A loud groan escaped- Nagrul smiled and instructed him to stay quiet before running his tongue over Dulpak's erection.  
He put his arms back over his head and felt his partner's mouth work up over his stomach and rib cage, into the curve of his exposed underarm.  
"You can't expect me to be quiet when you torture me like this," he joked.

"I can stifle you if needed," Nagrul replied against his skin.

Now that they had the luxury of a warm room and a locked door they were able to move slowly, toying with each other.  
His companion was rough but attentive, and by the time Nagrul entered him, chest to chest and face to face, Dulpak was well prepared to take it.

"Good?" Nagrul asked in a coarse tone, looking down at him intently- He nodded and moaned his affirmation back.  


Many minutes later they were sprawled out next to each other, breathing hard. There was a mess on his stomach and Nagrul's hand bore the marks of his teeth- He had needed that stifling after all.  
"Sorry about that. At least it wasn't the broken one," he gestured lazily to the injury.

"Huh?" Nagrul turned his hand over in a daze.  
"That's impressive. I didn't even notice." 

Dulpak went to the wash basin to bathe, this time for entirely different reasons, and pulled on clean clothes. Sometime during the last month he had decided to grow his hair out- By now it fell in uniformly around his ears. He made a quick pass through with his fingers to disguise the tangling Nagrul created.  
"I'll get some food ordered. Try to dress yourself before you leave the room," Dulpak grinned as he tossed a pair of pants toward the foot of the bed.  
"Do you want anything specific?"

"Stew sounds fine," Nagrul waved off the joke. 

The inn was mostly cleared out, all rooms occupied, except for an old drunk, a trio of men in quiet conversation, and a young woman half-asleep by the hearth. If anyone had been able to hear, they weren't around to talk about it.  
"Do you have any stew?" He leaned against the bar and the inkeeper examined him wearily through wrinkled eyes.

"Just venison," the man offered.  
Dulpak counted out septims and pointed behind the counter.  
"Two bowls of the stew, some of that garlic bread, and three bottles of whatever make that mead is."  
When they traded hands, he attempted to ease some of the innkeeper's worry.

"My name's Dulpak," he added amiably, and it seemed to take the edge off of the man's glances. A tired, honeyed voice chimed in from behind before he got a name in return.  
"Your family name isn't Ghazal, is it?"

"It is."  
The woman's slender back straightened up, and she produced a bundle of letters.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to you in Winterhold. You'd save me a lot of time if you just took them now."  
Dulpak was just as surprised as she was. He received letters from Orsinium frequently, but never two at a time. Nor were they ever so lengthy.  
He tore into the shorter of the two and recognized his brother's handwriting immediately.

_I hope you're reading this letter first, because I suspect our sister will have written some slanderous things about me, and I can tell you that most of those things are an outright lie._

Nagrul pulled up a chair beside him, but he was too absorbed in the letter to acknowledge anything.

_The timing is unfortunate and I think everyone's come to the conclusion that it's my fault, but it's not as if this sort of thing can be blamed on one person alone._

Their food arrived. It smelled strongly of good broth and seasoning, yet it was the furthest thing from his mind.  
"There's no way..."

_She's so excited though. We both are. I'm sure the two of you met back when you were living here, right? She was the one training to become an envoy that I used to flirt with. I mentioned her in a letter a few months ago._

"What?"  
Nagrul neared something close to concern before Dulpak answered with unrestrained excitement.  
"My brother's having a child!"

"I didn't realize he had a wife?"  
His partner looked around the nearly empty room, as if checking to see if anyone was disturbed by his happiness.  
"He doesn't!"  
Dulpak burst into laughter that grew less and less controlled by the time he got to his sister's much longer letter regarding her blunt and honest feelings on the subject. Nagrul began to read through his brother's writing, gradually cracking a smile as the story went on.  
"He's wanted to be a father for as long as I can remember. He'll be great at it," Dulpak beamed.

As they ate his excitement carried through the meal.  
Soon, sooner than Dulpak liked, they would arrive in Winterhold and responsibilities would take over. Nagrul would have to settle in, he would return to instructing.  
For now he could be as hedonistic as he wanted.

"Ushnar is a good name if it turns out to be a boy," he suggested, but Nagrul gave pause between mouthfuls of stew.  
"I know I've read that name somewhere."


End file.
